


Cluster Suck

by join_the_conga



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vampire!Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:04:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/join_the_conga/pseuds/join_the_conga
Summary: Jason can speak to ghosts, which is mostly cool. Deadman’s equal parts dead acrobat and chill wingman out to help Jason have a great night. Dick is a vampire who just wants a tasty midnight snack and some goddamn answers.





	Cluster Suck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lolistar92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolistar92/gifts).

> Dun-dun-dun-duh! My annual smut piece has arrived. Thank you to Lolistar92 for the fun Jaydick prompts. I hope you enjoy my spin on the vampire request!

Until morning came, Jason had committed control of his body to Boston Brand—partly because Jason felt sorry for Deadman’s whole inability-to-touch-another-human-soul shtick, but mostly ‘cause the guy could whine in that squeaky Massachusetts burr for literal eternity if he put his mind to it.

Jason, with the waft of his own rotting corpse flesh a not-yet distant memory, was sorry enough to hear every bitching ghost word that most others couldn’t. In a world where vampires, demons, werewolves, aliens, metas, and more kept springing into the public consciousness like popping popcorn, death walkers like him were stubborn little kernels more associated with online conspiracy videos or zombie films than a stroll-down-the-sidewalk, real-world commodity. And while he could speak with spirits—knew the chilly afterlife intimately after, you know, dying himself—Jason couldn’t say much about it or explain how he got back. Pale skin, irregular heartbeat, low body temperature—understanding all of it was a little out of his reach.

Even after years back topside, Jason was still learning what it meant to return from the dead. Non-Bat-grade electronics would sometimes go a little fucky on him, _zerk!_ with fuzz and noise and spectral voices whispering through nearby speakers. If he got too stressed, his cellphone battery would be finished by early evening. And “sensitive” humans—or just all dogs and cats and birds and shit—were either _attracted_ to his presence (a‘hem) or downright repulsed, achy and burpy and watery eyes or hivey collarbones for no discernable reason.

And even if the old Batfam was used to this kind of supernatural bullshit, Jason didn’t like to reveal the extent of what it all meant for his day-to-day. He didn’t feed them even half the knowledge he continued to slowly accumulate on death walking, the void, or spirit life on Earth. Mostly ‘cause it pissed off Old Man Pointy Ears. But also because it was none of their business. Unless it affected The Mission, or whatever.

Look, Jason knew, in drunkenly annotated detail from the primary source himself, that Dick’s guilty pleasure snack was Type O blood sucked from a spicy Type A personality and that he guy spent his early twenties developing Opinions on the hottest ways to feed during sex. The conversation had been all too-loud whispers and vampire sssssssslurss and X-rated miming that only stopped when Jason slapped Dick’s hands out of the air, intertwined their fingers with red cheeks as Dick giggled and crowed, “I ssssmell your blush, Little Wing!” Followed by a loud, fake _sssssslurp_!

And Jason had walked in on Tim sucking on a cow’s eyeball like a jawbreaker—_more than once, Tim, fuck_—because it “helps with concentration” while mixing up potions and scribing out spells. He’d even found the little witch boy fast asleep with one held loosely in his mouth at his workbench, which had been as dangerous as it was disgusting, and Jason let the little runt know. And poor Damian, half-demon pubescent wandering around the manor filled with tight-bodied superheroes in and out of costume at all hours, had recently learned the hard way that stuffing a pillow over his lap was not all he needed to do to hide a stiffy when everyone could clearly see his dancing, diamond-tipped tail betraying the ruse at his back.

In short, the Batfam was open about its supernatural hijinks amongst all its members. They shared _too much_ information, like, all the time, actually. (_No, Dick, we do not need to hear about how period blood tastes distinctly fishy, goddammit! Get your tongue back in your skull right this fucking instant, or I swear to god—_)

But there was something different about sharing secrets on death. It was a different kind of intimacy. And Jason was a different kind of bat.

Like Bruce somehow still was, Jason had been human. Where Dick and Tim and Damian had led supernatural lives from the cradle, Jason had entered the fold of the paranormal late. Self-consciously. And in probably the suckiest way.

_Suckiest_. Goober Dick loved throwing around that word and giggling, waggling his suavely arched eyebrows above his stupidly perfect face. “You look down, bud.” Dick’d nudge Jason with an elbow to the sternum, which was always ignored, even if Jason’s blush revealed him. “Would you say that you had a... _sucky_ day? Eh? Eh?” And then Dick would cartoonishly hiss, pantomime some horror movie cliché claws in the air just above Jason’s shoulders, float up onto his tiptoes to lean in and hiss into Jason’s ear some more until Jason threw him to the ground. Dick snorted when he laughed, held his belly all spread out on his back, kicked his legs in hysteria. How that man was best known for his sultry vampiric persona was a mystery. Fucking pretty boy.

But anyway. Jason had let Boston into his body for their solid five-hour deal, allowing the spirit to benignly possess his body in a way he didn’t think any of the Batfam knew possible. Sure, they knew of Possession with a capital P, all nasty and evil and tragic. But death walkers didn’t do the game like that. Jason could invite spirits into his body and still retain consciousness. He could even snatch back control as necessary. Plus, Boston’s role as the Deadman made it all too easy to trust his control and intent, so Jason didn’t see the harm in lending out his bod for a late night joyride.

He and Boston had paired up kind of naturally for the past few weeks, ever since the Outlaws had pulled Jason out by the scruff of his neck from some seriously nasty death cultists up in backwoods New York. They had clearly researched way too much shibari, at least based on the way they had decoratively trussed a drugged up Jason over a would-be bonfire.

“Nah, bro, knot like this—rope goes over, then tuck.”

“Gotta say, his death aura is like, ‘Whoa,’ dude. Thrash, man, for real.”

“Yeah, man, that’s gonna be some good blood! Master def appreciates.”

“When I get down from here, we’re going to have a real conversation about safe, sane, and consensual kinks. But only after I rip out your vocal chords, you stupid, stupid fu—whoa, wait, what is that? Like, I’ll admit a scythe guitar is rad as hell, but why’s it gotta be that big? Boy, have I got stories for you about overcompensation. Have you _seen_ the Batmobile? It’s practically obscene...”

Up until that point, Jason had taken them for common metalheads with some good music taste and some bad criminal predilections. Little did he know, the hands that gelled up fauxhawks and pompadours, that funneled weapons to small-time gangs around Gotham for some mysterious overseas source, that thrashed in bad-guy downtime on electric guitars fifteen-year-old-Jason would’ve creamed over—those hands were also cut by ritual blade every thirteen days in sacrifice to some greater demon that, luckily, Biz had beat the fiery snot out of. In a rare stroke of luck for the Outlaws, Biz’d had the surprise help of an enthused Deadman, free from a prison the cultists had locked him in weeks before once Jason had smashed open some important-looking obsidian vase with a flailing kick from his post.

It had been so much fucking fun to see Deadman slip in and out of the enemy bodies, taking control and running them, one at a time, headfirst into a concrete wall while Biz and the big-bad reenacted an Iron Maiden album sleeve in the background. Artemis, of course, cleaned house of the rest of the followers with a grin and a glare, toying with the running cowards by disappearing and reappearing her greataxe throughout the battle at opportune moments. All his supposed friends left Jason to _“Guess I’ll just free myself, guys!”_ wriggle out of his frankly smutty bonds. By the time he got down, most of the battle was over. He did get to clothesline one of punks running from Artemis, though.

“Magic fucking sucks!” Jason had said, kicking a downed demon-worshiper in the head once the dust had settled. He felt only mildly guilty saying it at the time, imagining a mini-Tim in the background crossing his arms all bitchy. “And I’m _confiscating_ this.” So at least Jason got a sick-ass Schecter Hellraiser out of the ordeal—a cherry red metal guitar modified to be part scythe, because obviously.

Artemis kept sneering that word at him and his new toy. “_Obvious_.” Jason, in response, bought an amp that could go up to eleven. But also a beginner’s bass guitar, engraved with the name _Mistress II_, since it would be a sin if that woman couldn’t thrash. He even found Biz a tambourine, big enough for the guy’s baseball-mitts-for-hands. And once he and Jason had shot the shit, Boston claimed he knew a guy Jason might like to talk to. Then led the spirit of _Ronnie James Motherfucking Dio _to one of Jason’s safe houses that very night for a celebratory jam. As far as Jason was concerned, Boston was a king among men and a best friend for life-and-afterlife.

Anyway, Boston “Deadman” Brand was a sarcastic ex-circus-acrobat-come-wayward-spirit dealing with non-life after death by trying to clean up his record in time for holy forgiveness. Jason didn’t wanna say they had anything in common, but damn, clean mirrors are the least forgiving. Jason trusted the guy as athlete enough to handle Jason’s body for a nice, easy run across Gotham’s rooftops on a slow midsummer night. He had come to learn that acrobats and ghosts alike seemed to have an innate sense of body and movement, likely due to constant study and practice controlling the human form. Being both, Jason figured that Deadman would do just fine, even though they both agreed that Deadman trying to use a grapnel in the full Red Hood suit would likely end in a splat. So that’s where they were. Deadman driving Jason’s mostly civilian-styled body on a no-assist, power-parkour stint, Jason relaxed in the corner of his mind for the ride.

**_Thanks for the lift, kid! _**Deadman enthused in their head. **_Been a while since I’ve been in a guy this stacked, it’s pretty sick._**

Jason rolled his eyes. _Yeah, well, you owe me._

Deadman broke them into a run, hopping for the rungs of a fire escape ladder. **_Alley-oop!_** He hooked their feet into the bottom rung for power and then double-dynoed up the side to grab an adjacent window ledge. **_Fuck, kid, where you get muscles like these?_ _You had to pay cash money for these thighs, right?_** Deadman emphasized the point by pausing halfway up the building to slap their right hand high against an inner hamstring. Hard enough that the alley sang with the smack. Because he’s a touch-starved pervert, Deadman grabbed the flesh there and attempted a jiggle.

_Watch your fucking hands, baldy._

** _Baldy! You know, I had great hair when I still had a pulse. Drove the birds insane! _ **

Deadman continued up and cleared the roof, one hand snagging purchase on a corner fixture, the rest of their torso hanging over open air in a showman’s pose with the other running through their hair. Jason insisted on wearing a domino mask with his otherwise normal exercise gear that night, but that meant his hair was open territory. Deadman fluffed their curls, shook out the locks into the wind like a drama queen. **_Actually, I looked a lot like that pretty bat of yours_**, Deadman claimed. Which was hilarious, because Boston’s current appearance to anyone who could actually see the ghost was just a bleached white nineties Moby, but with muscles, a full-body spandex leotard in red, and panda circles around his eyes.**_ The other acrobat with the tight ass! Better face, though._**

_Yeah right,_ Jason couldn’t help snarking. _I guess you and the golden boy do have the same fashion sense. _Deadman protested, iterating claims that the high collared, navel dipping suit was “functional,” which Jason had definitely heard from the lips of another ridiculous gymnast before, years ago. Jason continued without thinking,_ But no one has a better face than that_.

Deadman snorted, honking around all suggestively. **_Oooohh!_**

Jason crossed his arms defensively in his mind’s eye. _It’s because he’s a vampire! They’re all supernaturally pretty! Humans can’t even compare._

**_Uh-huh_**, Deadman snarked. **_By the way, vamps love them some ghost blood. Maybe you’ve got a natural flirtatious edge here, death walker!_**

** **

_I thought it was demons love ghost blood?_

**_Vampires, demons, werewolves—probably even aliens! If they use their sniffer, they’re in deep. All ghoulies love you ghosties and your impeccable graveyard smell. I say, he’s a tight little number, let him take a nibble and show you a good time._** Deadman pursed their lips. He squelched them together in obnoxious kissy noises that faded into the steady Gotham breeze.

** **

Jason sighed. _You’re a creep, Boston. Dick’s never said anything about my smell, anyway. Plus, he’s got, like, busty models and willowy goths and pretty young things all lined up and offering._

**_Models? Goths! Boy, no matter the aesthetic, I can guarantee many a vamp loves meat, and you’ve got it. _**Deadman slapped the back of their thigh this time, finishing by pretty much palming their ass.

_What did I tell you about hands, baldy? And, you know, whatever. He’s not interested._

**_But are you? Oooooh! _**Luckily, before Jason had to demand a topic change, Deadman moved to a new discussion on his own, went back to fluffing their hair. **_Seriously, Jay, my body was goddamn delicious. People would just see me in my suit, then bam! Drop trow, bend over, bop around for a ride._**

** **

Again, Jason rolled his eyes, by now used to Boston’s hypersexualization. He figured he could forgive the guy for it. He _had _spent decades on earth, unseen, unfelt, watching everybody else get laid.

**_I had every kind of sex I wanted_**_,_ Deadman lamented. Then paused, cuing Jason to roll his eyes at what was coming next. Deadman stopped petting their hair long enough to lightly smack their forehead with the palm of a hand, all bad acting _“Eureka!” _and shit. **_Speaking of... Ahh, great idea, I’m a genius! Hey, baby, maybe we should get you some tonight!_**

Jason had put down figurative money that Boston’d ask for sex before the night was out. The guy was horndog and a half. _I’m fine without, thanks._

**_What, like, without it tonight? Or like, none ever?_** Without waiting for a response, Deadman bowled on through. Made more kissy lips into the Gotham sky, smacked obnoxiously. **_Whatcha got in-game right now, babe? We can work with it! Give old Boston an hour, and we’ll get something nice and cute, you hear?_**

** **

_No._

Deadman groaned, then cooed. **_You don’t gotta be shy, man! You’ve got a good face and bod. With my charm, we’ll be unstoppable! Can probably find one of those black hair, blue eye beauties your fam likes so much, uh-huh!_**

** **

Jason scoffed internally, took enough control of their free hand to reach up and flick them between the eyes. _You’re a guy who hasn’t felt the fog, smelled the smog, or pet a dog in literal years, and all you wanna do is bar-crawl and fuck?_

When Jason gave control of the hand back, Deadman immediately reached down to smartly pinch an ass cheek. Jason almost squeaked in their head. **_You’re damn right, son! You’re a rich-ass PYT with the world as your sopping, horny oyster. _**Deadman smacked their ass again for emphasis. **_And what the fuck are we doing on a Friday night? Exercising, ugh! _**And then, of course, Deadman began grinding against the building with entirely too much rubbing, body rolling in a way that left Jason mortified but also a little curious to try out himself. **_Face it, kid, you’re so past pent up to critical mass, you probably sneeze cum. You need me to lock us down something cute and tight and sinful as hell—and pronto!_**

Mind-Jason crossed his arms, tapped his foot with displeasure. _Fine! Then once you’re done running, I’ll go, like, flirt or something, god! You’re just like Dick, you know?_

** _Like, pretty-boy Dick?_ **

** **

Jason huffed.

** _Like... guy-we-seem-to-talk-about-an-awful-lot Dick?_ **

** **

Jason’s shoulders hunched in irritation. _You brought him up first!_

**_You mean... guy-with-a-perfect-face Dick? Who you apparently think of when someone tells you that you have perfected the soft science of sexual frustration?_** Deadman had moved on from straight humping, instead turning to face out and plant their popped booty against the wall with one hand braced on the brick above their head, the other hand trailing between collarbones as Deadman forced their hips to gyrate.

_Push me all you want, fucker. I am not having sex with you in my body._

Deadman stopped dancing, sucked on their lip and pouted.

** **

** _...I mean, we could swap in here and I’ll just watch? You steer and slip me some wet cock sensation during?_ **

_Fuck off, Boston, not happening._

Deadman blew a raspberry in his head, abruptly flipping their body up to snag the top of the building’s tallest spire and swing around like Danny Kaye. **_Fuddy-duddy! Spoil-sport! Sunshine-slapper!_**

He let Deadman carry on, he wasn’t going to budge. Jason began to vividly imagine picking his nails just to show his disinterest to Boston. But then Deadman abruptly stopped swinging, swapped hands to stare down at the city below.

** _Ooooh... Baby, we’ve got just a beautiful audience tonight!_ **

Jason almost asked, but then he, too, noticed the familiar blue stripe almost glowing in the dark alley some twelve stories below. Of course, just his luck. While they waited for Nightwing to make a move, a traffic report helicopter passed by their rooftop on a different run. The ensuing wind whipped the collar of their red running zip-up open against Jason’s shoulders more dramatically than was called for, especially when Deadman puffed their big chest into the air. Deadman used their spare hand to wave. Cocked his hip and blew a kiss to their spectator still on the dirty cobblestone ground.

_What the fuck are you doing?_ Jason hissed in their mind as they both watched the faint blue V dance with movement below. But Nightwing didn’t scale up the building just yet. It looked like he was waiting for something. Probably for Jason to call him a shitbrain or similar. Or for someone to explain why Jason had been coming on to a goddamn high-rise. Fuck.

**_Wanna fuck with him?_** Deadman stage-whispered. **_I’ve got some great flips to get out of my system, and pretty boy’ll be absolutely green with envy._**

Jason considered for a moment, already kinda pissed that Dick had probably seen Deadman’s whole show up to this point. But Boston wasn’t kidding around—he could definitely give Dick a run for his money when it came to defying gravity. Dick clearly wouldn’t know any acrobatic skills were Deadman’s to show off, not his own. Hmm...

Deadman felt Jason’s pause, latched onto it with glee. **_Whaddya say, champ? He’s not gonna be able to look away from you, I promise. _**

** **

Jason felt a giddy warmth in his stomach at the words. Fuuuck.

..._Okay, you’ve talked me into it._

** _Thatt’a boy! Hold on tight, baby._ **

Deadman posed again, made a show of taking a breath. He balanced them on one foot, bending the other leg in a sort of tree pose while he lifted both their hands into the air, wrists rolled back for drama. Then bounced on that foot, arched, and dove. Jason heard an aborted shout from below just a moment after and grinned. _Keep watching, golden boy_.

They sunk into a layout, to show off the sheer length and structure of the body during freefall. Deadman caught the opposing building’s nearest fire escape railing, touching just to spring off, aerial flip to the original wall like a ping pong ball. Double-tuck back. Then a series of impressive flips that Jason didn’t think he could even name.

And, once they’d got close enough to the ground and their seemingly wonderstruck prey, Jason heard Deadman snicker ominously before launching a viper-fast pike into full on thigh-tackle around Nightwing’s shoulders and neck. **_Thank me later, babe._**

Jason should have known Deadman was gonna pull some shit like this. Fuuuuuuuuck.

Nightwing dropped like a rock, confused shout muffled by the crotch of Jason’s running leggings. Upon landing, Jason was nearly straddling Dick’s face. His ass kissed the top of the blue V, and his legs hooked around Nightwing’s arms to keep him immobile. Deadman moved to brace Jason’s hands against the pavement, arched their back low to slightly pop their ass again and emphasize Jason’s pecs right above Dick’s eyeline.

Without waiting for Dick to respond—or Jason to try to throw him out of his body—Boston cooed to Nightwing with Jason’s full, husky voice. “Hey, baby. You wanna play tonight?”

Nightwing’s eyes got cartoon-huge behind the domino that peeked out from under Jason’s thigh. Jason, too, was also frozen in his own mind with the what-the-fuckery of the situation. Deadman leaned back to cross their arms over their chest, stretching and bending to show off the rest of Jason’s torso while readjusting their perch on Dickie’s chest and shoulders.

“_Jasssson,” _Nightwing hissed into his leg, almost spitting like Jason teased him for when he got all vamped up. Jason felt Dick’s mouth making shapes against his inner thigh, and, fuck, it was a little hot and freaky. “Oh my gosh, what are you _doing_?”

Mind Jason had Deadman by the throat, miliseconds from tossing him out on his ass. But one last squeaky plea struck him before he finished the move that would give him back control of his body.

** _Don’t freak yet, Jay! We’ve got him!_ **

** **

And... Boston was right.

It look Jason maybe two full seconds to get over his complete mortification and capture the whole look and meaning to this tableau beneath his ass. Because Dick was definitely shocked. His eyes were big and directed right at Jason’s crotch, forehead disappearing to make room for ever-arching eyebrows. Jason rose and fell with Dick’s quiet panting. And while Dick had begun to shift his hands to touch Jason, maybe push him off, he hadn’t quite yet. Just let his palms rest against Jason’s calves. And finally, the most damning evidence. Jason caught the glitter of two fully extended, pearly white canines dripping with saliva, poking subtly out of a slack-jawed mouth just barely holding back a little drool and venom.

Dick “Overshare” Grayson had told him about this before. Complained about “popping” in public, and not referring to a boner or whatever. “Popping” was all about his teeth. About revealing his sharp, vampiric canines in bursts of attraction. Uncontrollable. _“Totally natural, Jaybird! It happens to the best of us. We get the hang of it eventually, you know? So now I only pop around those **really** sweet pieces, mmm...”_

Jason, not Deadman, made his body grin.

They both felt Dick’s throat work in an animated gulp beneath them.

**_Alright, kid, _**Deadman pushed back into his mind, leaving full control of body to Jason, **_we’ve got him on the ropes. Say that you saw him watching and thought he deserved a show. And keep posing, I bet he likes that!_**

** **

Feeling a little stupid, but also a lot triumphant, Jason settled his hands on his hips, puffed his chest out like Deadman had against the tight black tank. He let his jacket slip off his shoulders to catch at the elbows. It emphasized his biceps and pecs, what Jason thought were his best physical assets. “I... noticed you watching me, Nightwing. Did you like it?”

At Jason’s cue, Dick’s sightline did trail over his upper body with the slow appreciation and tempo of dripping shower water down hot, steamy skin. But, just like perfect drops of water, Jason watched Dick’s gaze settle in a low valley. Again, right between his thighs.

** _Clench!_ **

Jason did. Flexed his admittedly gifted thighs three times in quick succession with his hands still on his hips.

Dick did one of those vamp things, sniffed all dramatically and gasped. Jason flexed his thighs one more time. Under Dick’s intent look, Jason thought he might be able to feel the blood pumping through his pelvis.

_Really?_ Jason wondered. He recognized that his thighs were bigger than those of any other guy he knew, but he thought that was, like, a perk of his overall muscularity. Not a defining feature. And maybe his smell was actually different to Dick? _Huh..._

** _Keep going! You showed off, wanted his attention—fuck, he’d love that, say that!_ **

** **

“I just wanted... to show off for you. Let you see me.” Dick squirmed, hummed, then stroked his fingers further up the back of Jason's calves. Stroked until his hands reached their limit, still held tight under the curl of Jason's legs. In the midst of this porny, wish fulfillment fantasy, that small, tender touch was so, so Dick.

Jason took a breath. Fuck it, he was going for it. He could hear Deadman's applause already.

He braced his fingertips against the pavement again, loosening his thigh tackle to release Dick’s hands. And then he swung his legs out to flaunt a perfect split right over Dick's face.

Jason was positive he heard the vampire let out an actual, swear-to-Jesus squawk. And then he could feel Dick’s nose press against a crease between thigh and cheek. Jason rolled his hips, just a little.

** _Fuck, I’m so proud. _ **

Jason held the pose for a few seconds. Flexed. “Wanna see more?” He asked. Then he settled back on Dick’s chest. Waited.

Dick sniffed again, let out a little whiny grunt. Shifted his gaze from Jason's stirring crotch to stare Jason right in the eyes in quiet deliberation. Jason bit his lip, maybe sexy, but definitely uncertain.

Another moment passed, accompanied by the pink glow and low R&B rattle of a cab pulling into a parking space past the mouth of the alley. Jason and Dick continued to stare at each other. And then Dick slowly, all sexy and deliberate and expression going downright smoky, worked his tongue over the tip of a dripping, pearly canine.

_Really?!_

Deadman cheered, metaphorically slapped his back while Jason held taught. He let Dick slowly come back to himself and test the waters of the situation. With newly freed hands, Dick pet the part of his calves he missed on the first pass with those rough Nightwing gloves, the fabric of the running leggings supple and oh-so thin under his touch. Then Dick stroked his knees, thumbs working at the joints all gentle and agonizing and sweet. “Oh, fuck, Jaybird. _Yes._”

With just a little prompting from Deadman, Jason closed his eyes and arched back, tipped his jaw to reveal his neck while planting his hands on either side of Dick’s waist behind him. Dick's hands immediately moved to stroke the cut lines in Jason's thighs. Jason pumped his own hips in small circles atop his perch, clenched his thighs and held them tight near Dick’s chin. Oh my god, it was working.

And yeah, that Nike fabric did not a goddamn thing to help him as Jason felt Dick tilt his head, leave a long, strong lick through the fabric over his femoral artery.

_Boston..._

Deadman was practically stroking himself. **_Yeah, baby, yeah?_**

Jason ground himself against Dick’s mouth, let Deadman feel Dick’s hands slide up his thighs to squeeze his ass. Let him feel the fingers of one of Dick’s hands tucking into pants to slip over Jason’s hole while the other hand wrapped around his hip, thumb teasing cock. Because he was extra nice, Jason also let Deadman savor a few seconds of sensation as the vampire’s tongue switched between the junction of Jason’s thighs to swirl all slow at the tip of his still covered erection.

** _Ugh, fuck..._ **

** **

_Alright. Now get the fuck out._

Jason pushed and saw the ghost tumble out of their body into his periphery with none of the grace of a highly trained acrobat.

Boston scowled, swore. “**_Aw, c’mon, I got you to the best part! Dammit._**” Jason ignored him, pet his fingers through Dick’s hair as he guided the vampire’s mouth along his shaft. Reached one hand back to grab his shirt, pull it over his head. Pinched his nipples, hard in the cool air. Groaned aloud, “_Ahh_, Dick...”

“**_Ugh, fine. But I’m getting the details later!_**” And then Deadman floated off into the night.

Dick tore his mouth away gasping. “Fuck, Jason, you ssssmell... ssso good, unf. Never wanted to say anything, but gosh... your thighsss are, like. Crazy. In every." Lick. "Way.” Lick lick.

Jason’s fingers trembled only slightly as they reached for the fabric over his crotch. He jerked at the seams just enough for a five-or-so inch hole to burst into existence over his femoral. “I want you to taste me, Dick. Fucking eat me.”

Dick’s eyes practically rolled back into his head. Jason could feel Dick’s body move as his hips slightly pumped just beyond Jason’s perch. “_Fuck. Yesss._”

Jason let Dick adjust his grip on his hips, pull him even further over Dick’s face. Jason whined as Dick licked his thigh, sucked a chord of muscle into his mouth before letting his teeth sink in.

“_Ah!”_ Jason cried out, forgetting the fact they were in a goddamn open alley. He still heard the croon of that low singer, humming over the idling cars. Everything was heady, sharp, distant and focused all at the same time. He’d never felt it for himself before, but the rumors were right—vampire venom was no joke. That was pure hot sensation flooding right into his thigh, just inches from the root of his cock. Jason’s stomach bottomed out in chemical ecstasy, tight and hot and what felt like he was coming instantaneously all over himself and Dick’s face. Except he was still hard, no ejaculation, just pure sexual insanity. He writhed in delicious orgasm as he felt Dick pull mouthfuls of blood and then groan into his leg, tongue working against he sensitive skin with each swallow. One of Dick’s hands slipped over to widen the hole in Jason’s leggings into full on destruction territory, then clawed away his briefs to begin jacking Jason off into hardcore overstimulation. It seemed like that radio singer was suddenly screaming.

“Dickie—_uh, Dickie, wait_! Please!”

Dick let go immediately, ripped his mouth off Jason’s thigh. Jason saw his vampire dark eyes, almost full-on black like a pair of sclera lenses. Blood dripped from Dick’s mouth, ran in rivulets down Jason’s skin. “Oh fuck, baby, you okay? Too much?”

Jason shook his head, murmuring and trying to wipe the sting of spontaneous, life-altering pleasure from his foggy brain. He could feel tears gathering in his eyes, oh god, it was so good.

Dick pet his flank, said, “Shh, baby, shh. It’s a lot, I know, shhh.”

Jason shook his head again. The far away song switched up, became a little spicy and demanding in tempo. “Sh-shut up, Dickie. I want—I...” Jason took to his knees for a second, inhaled a deep breath of chill air to wake himself up. Then, to Dick’s surprise, he reached to completely rip off his ruined leggings. There was something to being buck-ass naked in a dark alley with a man, a _vampire_, fully clothed and caught beneath you. Damn. Jason turned around and reached for the pocket in the Nightwing suit he knew Dick kept stocked with lube, the fucking fiend.

Dick keened, leaned up to lick drips of blood from Jason’s thigh. “Oh shit, baby. Oh shit! You’re so beautiful. But right here? On the concrete?”

Jason grabbed Dick’s hair again, guided the vampire’s tongue from his thigh to his taint to his hole. Dick groaned again and dove in, using his hands to pull apart Jason’s cheeks for room. “I said I—_ah!_ I want you to eat me tonight, Dickie.” Dick’s tongue pushed in, lapped, licked, drooled over Jason’s ass. “And then you’re gonna f-fuck me. Right here. Me on top... you biting my wrist and neck just... like you said you like. _Ahh!_”

Dick nodded into Jason’s ass in desperate response. Jason began moving, just slightly, over Dick’s mouth. He stroked his own cock a few times. Then reached to open the lube bottle with a quiet _snick_.

Dick heard the cue and pulled out his tongue, hissed. Turned his head to lick up the rest of the blood that dripped and coagulated down Jason’s thigh. Watched from inches away as Jason continued to work himself open. “Fuck, you’re so dirty, Little Wing. And you taste the best I ever... I love it! Fuck!”

With his torso pretty much trapped under Jason’s perch, Jason felt Dick struggle to slip the tight Nightwing bottoms down over his hips. Felt Dick’s hot breath beat against his ass and his cock when the vampire sighed in quasi relief as he got a grip on his own erection.

“Here,” Jason offered, scooting back to straddle Dick’s hips this time. He offered one palm to Dick’s mouth as the other took Dick’s cock in hand, pumped it a few times and then held it steady as Jason lowered himself into place. Dick used both of his hands to hold Jason’s wrist like a lifeline to his lips as he sunk deep into hot, wet Jason.

Dick hissed some more, eyelashes fluttering and hips pumping as he finally bit into Jason’s wrist. Again, the perfect ecstasy of the venom hit Jason like the full speed Batmobile. Did the song change again? Harmony everywhere, in everything, crying out for faster, faster. Jason began just fucking bouncing on Dick’s lap from the word go.

Cockhead swiped prostate again and again. Dick’s fangs and tongue worked against Jason’s wrist, which, who knew was an erogenous zone? A minute in, and Jason cried through another dry orgasm, almost hyperventilating as he pinched at his own nipples, ran his free hand down his torso to where he joined with Dick’s flesh. He was almost afraid to touch his own cock at this point, he was so beyond worked up.

Dick released Jason’s wrist with a gasp, a groan. “I’m ssss... ssso closssse, baby, Wing, ugh. C’mere, beautiful.” One hand grabbed Jason’s left ass cheek, squeezed and guided Jason’s pace. He began to slow up the mindless fucking, delicious as it was, and move to deep, rolling, forceful pumps that Dick met thrust for thrust. Once that rhythm got going, Dick pulled Jason down by the scruff of his neck. Gave him a big old tongue-kiss for their first, fangs and ghost blood and hot panting and all. They both whined. Figures that they’d only kiss once Dick was buried seven inches into Jason’s ass.

Jason could feel it this time, real and raw and about to roll through the base of his spine, into his cock, burst out in honest-to-god cum that would ribbon all over the Nightwing blue. “_Dick_,” he sobbed into the vampire’s lips. “Gonna come now, bite me, bite, bite, bite—”

Dick reared back, hissing, and struck for Jason’s neck like a fucking predator. Bit down. Screamed his own orgasm into tendons as blood filled his mouth.

Jason whited out. Grabbed at Dick’s shoulders for dear life as he came, and came, and came. More singing. Ten seconds. Twenty. Jason's heart dropped with the beat. Thirty seconds, oh god, was it supposed to last this long? Thirty-five seconds.

Jason passed out into Dick’s arms at forty seconds. Just for a few minutes. Dick took the time to seal closed his new lover’s wounds, lick up the remaining blood, pump his softening cock in and out of Jason for a few final spikes of exquisite sensation. Venom could knock a bitch out.

“Dickie?” Jason breathed into Dick’s neck, exhausted. He shivered, feeling the alley chill for what felt like the first time all night. Dick cooed, guided Jason’s limp arms into the forgotten jacket. He shifted the bulky dead walker into his arms, lifted him and stood like it was nothing. Jason swooned.

“I’ve got you, Little Wing,” Dick promised. He took a deep sniff of Jason’s neck, licked over the closed bite for the hell of it. Dick shivered for a moment like Jason was a new, insane taste and then began walking deeper into the alley, cuddling his beefy prize close. “Gonna get you warm. And fed. And wrapped up in my XL coffin. Where I’m gonna fuck you tomorrow morning, slow. No teeth. How you like that, baby?”

Jason groaned, dipped his head back limp at the neck like a submissive damsel. “Why the coffin, too cliché... For both of us, you goober. Your humor sucks.”

“_Sucks_, you say? It sucks?” Dick nuzzled Jason's throat, blew a raspberry over the rapidly healing teethmarks.

“Fuck.”

Dick pulled back and winked. “I’m gonna give you a few sucks, don’t you worry.”

“**_Fuck is right, baby, damn. He’s gonna keep dicking you down good._**”

Before Jason could look around and scream, Dick floated up and burst them both into black mist, snatched his prize back to his vampiric den ten miles away. He wouldn’t shut up about how nice the red velvet coffin interior looked against Jason’s skin that night. Jason made him suck his cock twice during the next morning to keep him in the coffin, Dick feeding him chocolate and cold Thai takeout in between. Eventually, Dick did get Jason to ride him in the coffin exactly like they both deserved. It wasn’t until a few weeks passed that Dick remembered to ask Jason about the cool new flips and if he could teach him some moves.


End file.
